Author's Note: This was supposed to go up on Thursday, but lighting struck. Literally. Got a replacement modem now, so here you go!

Time for the penultimate installment in this collection of deleted scenes. We're getting near the end, and as a result I was able to include a whole chapter of the first draft, uncut, because it was so divorced from how things actually ended up going. As such, this table of contents might look a little skimpy:

Trauma Resurfacing (Chapter 25)

Working Through Things (Chapter 26)

Secret Agent Blacksmith (Chapter 26)

Battle of the Irrational People (Chapter 27)

Shield flew with his sister and mother, following his father into battle. His whole family, with the obvious exception of Joy, was here. As were most of the other Furies of the Isle. Fourteen, all told, counting Toothless. The plan, as it had been explained to them, was simple enough.

'There will be ships. We're splitting into three groups, you know which group you are. Each group, follow your leader for the initial attack. After that, set as many ships on fire as possible, and space out your shots. There should always be at least one Fury diving to blast a ship. Don't get too close, and fire sparingly. We need to cause as much chaos as possible. From this angle sinking these ships isn't possible anyway. Burn them instead.' Toothless's voice had been cold.

Shield hoped he could do it. Firing on ships, probably on soldiers. He knew he should. His own mother and father were doing the same. Togi was even leading one of the groups.

They passed over the ships of the Meatheads and Waxears, lying in wait, dark to avoid notice. A few moments later, they began circling above the harbor. Shield watched in slight awe as the Bog-Burglars stealthily pulled up to an outlying ship, and silently sunk it, apparently by cutting holes in the hull. Shield wasn't sure how they did it so quickly. It barely took them three minutes below deck. He'd have to ask them.

He knew the plan involved the Burglars being noticed. But they were good. He watched in increasing fascination as they efficiently sunk ship after ship, leaping across to the next as the one below them quickly descended into the dark waters below. It was especially impressive that the larger ones could move so lithely and so quietly.

The Burglars were caught just after they dealt with the sixth ship. Which was five more than had been expected, and it was apparently Dagur himself who had spotted them.

Shield growled at the sound of his maniacal and aggravating shrieks. This was one human he was sure he could fire on, given the chance. But he was too far away, and that wasn't the plan.

Shield watched the Bog-Burglars out of the corner of his eye, noticing them swimming the short way to their getaway ship. He gave his full attention to his father after a moment, when Togi began a dive, just slow enough to avoid the telltale shriek. He and the others followed suit, all charging plasma blasts for as much flammability as possible. This first strike had to be effective. The whole plan hinged on that.

But as he dove, Shield couldn't ignore the memories of events on a nearly identical ship. He frantically tried to fight off the encroaching feelings of horror and regret, but they filled him, choking him. He abruptly cut off his charging blast, and pulled out of the dive, already ashamed of his failure.

But he couldn't do it. As he watched, the first attack struck three key ships, locking most of the ships inside the harbor, where they would be unable to maneuver around the flaming wreckage.

He tried several times to rejoin the fight, attempting to psyche himself up for attacking. But he couldn't, even now. He wasn't sure which part of the night's action was blocking him. It might have been the ships, or the attacking unprovoked, or even just a lack of a clear and present threat. Whatever it was, it was strangling him whenever he thought about attacking. He circled the fight, watching in guilt as the other Furies carried out the plan. His absence was felt, though not too keenly. The entire thing might be over a minute sooner, with eight fewer plasma blasts to rely on, but they were definitely achieving the goal of this mission. Distraction and destruction. He hoped the human element of their attack was having such good lu-

Myrkurheili was struck by a bolt as he dove, faltering a moment after releasing his shot with a cry of pain.

Shield reacted, faster than he had thought possible. He dove, going from his spot on the outskirts towards Myrkurheili at top speed. Other Furies didn't have his momentum and were brushed aside as he hit Myrkurheili, grabbing on to the Fury's paws just as he faltered, slipping to his side in the air. Shield grabbed the paws with his own, locked grips, and pulled up with all of his might.

Myrkurheili wasn't a light dragon, but Shield was strong. He held Myrkurheili there in the air for the crucial seconds it took the next closest Fury to reach them. The Eldur Fury immediately put his back under Myrkurheili, flapping quickly to push up and relieve some of the injured dragon's weight.

Shield shouted at him, ignoring the shriek of rage coming from most of the other dragons. They weren't close enough to help anyway, and those dragons knew that. "We need to support him by the wings. Flip him!"

Myrkurheili was panting on pain, having recovered from the shock. "Do it. I can keep my wings out, you just catch me."

The Eldur shifted to the side, allowing Shield to let go and drop for a moment, positioning himself on Myrkurheili's other side. Myrkurheili abruptly slid and landed in between his two rescuers, supporting his weight with his wings, the strongest supports in his body. Still, it was akin to a human hanging from two small ledges. One muscle spasm and Myrkurheili would drop, unable to hold himself there any longer.

Shield and the Eldur both made for the nearest allied ship, less than a minute away if they were flying. But they had to glide because Myrkurheili was resting his wings on top of theirs. They had just enough height to make it to the outlying Meathead ship, Shield and the Eldur Fury landing carefully, keeping Myrkurheili up. Shield didn't know where the bolt had hit, exactly, but he knew it had to be removed, and if Myrkurheili collapsed on top of it, that would only drive it deeper.

Myrkurheili grunted in pain. 'It's in my side. Pull it out.' He looked at his left side, which was slowly dripping blood. 'I should be fine. I think.'

The Eldur Fury, who Shield now recognized as Eldurvatn, adult son of the Eldur parents, quickly looked at the bolt, before nodding. 'I don't think it hit anything important. It isn't in deep.' He grabbed the bolt and pulled, yanking it out. They were lucky it had been a crossbow bolt. Those were aerodynamic, and not usually barbed either. It came out easily enough.

Mykurheili roared in pain, panting from the exertion.

Shield quickly covered the wound in a layer of saliva and moved aside to let Myrkurheili lay down on the deck. He only now noticed the Meathead Vikings maneuvering around them, apparently trying to get their ship to the fight despite the new obstacles to mobility in the middle of the deck. He could see that the fight would be over before this ship could even flank the others. The combat he could see was quick and brutal, at least by Viking standards. The majority of the ships had moved in to flank exactly as planned, though a few, like this one, seemed to have been left behind slightly.

Myrkurheili groaned, collapsing onto the wooden deck. He was lucid enough to laugh hollowly. 'I'll be fine. I've felt worse. But thank you.' The fact that he most likely would have fallen into the ocean and drowned or onto a ship and been killed or captured was left unspoken. They all knew it.

After a moment, Eldurvatn launched back into the sky, rejoining the other Furies, who were now in retreat, their mission having been accomplished. Shield looked back to the fighting, only to see that it was over. No quarter had been given, and as he watched the last of the ten Berserker ships that had given chase began to sink beneath the water. He tried not to look at the Berserker corpses on that ship. The crew of the boat he was on were murmuring about the lack of a Viking funeral. One of them made a joke about the only thing missing being the fire.

Shield attempted to prepare a plasma blast and was bitterly surprised to find he had no problem setting the sinking ship alight. Of course, now that it was no help he could fire at will, he thought angrily. He ignored the shocked looks the Meatheads cast him and settled down a few feet away from Myrkurheili. He would make sure nothing happened to the wounded dragon on the trip back. It was all he could do, apparently. Guard. Protect. His name was ironically accurate. Shields couldn't attack. They could only defend. He hoped that meant he could fight in the defense of someone. Otherwise, he was useless in this war.

Reason for Removal: Simple. His character has been so far removed from his first-draft self that he doesn't even have the same name. This whole side-arc, which you'll see more of, just didn't make the cut. It didn't go anywhere, and the few things it set up, such as that name, can be integrated into future stories if I still want them then. (Not sure I even do, in regards to his new name, so we shall see what makes the cut...)

Working Through Things (Chapter 26)

Toothless and Maour caught up to Einfari as she and Heather flew through the sky above the mountain, flying simply for the fun of it. When they realized they were being pursued, they slowed down, and Toothless level out to glide next to them. 'Do you two know where Shield is?'

Heather shouted the answer over, muffled by the wind. "Yes, the center of the forest. You'll know it when you see it." She seemed troubled.

'Odd. Thank you.' Toothless dropped, diving towards the forest of the island, aiming roughly at the center. Within seconds he was gliding above it. 'How would we-'

Maour cut him off. "There." He pointed to a spot slightly to Toothless's left. A distinct clearing of sorts, small but visible.

Toothless winced. He recognized that. 'He definitely isn't in a good mood.' But he angled down and cautiously landed in the clearing anyway.

Maour looked around in awe. At least eight trees had been torn apart here, recently by the looks. Just like the ones Shield had decimated so long ago on their journey. He didn't see Shield at first. Then he saw the scarred dragon standing near another as of yet unmarked tree. He watched as Shield half-heartedly scratched at it with a single claw, head drooping.

'Shield?' Toothless spoke carefully. 'Are you okay?'

Shield jumped at that and turned around. His voice wasn't angry, just sad. 'Yes, I'm safe to approach. But that isn't in question anymore.' He sunk to the ground. 'As safe as a declawed and fireless dragon.'

"What?" Maour was confused by the comparison.

Shield groaned loudly. 'I'm safe. Safe for any human, dragon, or random forest animal that decides to wander by. I can't make myself attack anything! Trees are one thing.' He gestured angrily to the destruction around him. 'I have no problem killing trees. But even when it's for the good of our people, I apparently can't even think about fighting! I choke up. Every time I tried to fight in the battle, it felt like I was suffocating. But when some stupid Meatheads wanted a little fire, I had no problems then! I can't fight. What good is a Night Fury, one of the most dangerous predators in the world, if they can't even think about attacking someone? Not that I want to fight, to kill, but I should be able to!' He looked at Maour sadly. 'Even you can. And you hate violence.'

Toothless barked authoritatively. 'Stop moping. I don't believe you.' He had a pretty good hunch what would fix Shield's problem. Shield's complaining just now had strengthened said hunch. He felt Maour dismount and gestured for his brother to stand aside. He would handle this one.

Shield stared at him angrily. 'Don't believe me?' That was said almost petulantly.

'No, I don't. And this isn't me trying to provoke you into attacking to prove my point. I know you can't.'

Maour whispered to Toothless. "Uh, bud, I assume you're going somewhere with this? Because you're kind of sending mixed messages." He was reassured by a wink from Toothless, a gesture he had recently taught his brother. Apparently, it wasn't something dragons did normally. He moved a good distance away like Toothless had wanted.

Shield got up, and walked up to Toothless, staring at him inquisitively. 'Stop speaking in riddles. You don't believe I can't fight, but you know I can't? That's stupid.'

Toothless grinned, pawing at Shield. 'No, I said I know you won't attack me. Emphasis on "attack" and "me". Because I'm not threatening you, or anything you care about. And you couldn't attack those ships, because it was a pre-emptive strike. You knew it was an offensive move, no matter how imminent a threat they were. You can't attack. It doesn't mean you can't fight.' Before Shield could respond, Toothless went off on a seemingly unrelated tangent, purring slightly despite what he was saying. 'We're moving all of the little ones into the Svartur caves because the eggs can't be transported at all. Little Vartha and her parents will be there, along with Joy.' He deliberately used the small Fury's short name, despite not technically being allowed by custom to do so. 'And of course, Shadow, Cloey, and the two eggs. Von will be guarding the exit into the rest of the caves, and Eldurhjarta was going to be guarding the front entrance. But Eldurhjarta feels like she can be of more use in the fight. So, you'll be taking her place.' He waited to see how Shield would respond.

'What?! But I can't-'

That was what Toothless had been waiting for. He literally tackled Shield, slamming him into the ground. He growled threateningly in Shield's face. 'Don't you dare try to tell me you can't defend your own baby sister! If I believed you were telling the truth, I'd kill you right now!'

"Toothless? That might be a bit too far..." Maour knew this was part of the plan, whatever said plan was, but that was genuine anger in Toothless's voice. He trusted his brother, but it worried him all the same.

Shield growled back at him, pushing futilely with his paws. 'I want to! I do! But I'll-'

'No, you won't.' Toothless roared straight into Shield's face, shocking him with pure volume. 'Stop doubting yourself! We both know you're traumatized. And I'm telling you right now when the time comes you won't care! You have the same instincts we all do, and they'll push you forward! For most of us they aren't necessary, but now you need them to fight at all. But they're still there, so stop whining like a spoiled hatchling!' He began charging a plasma blast, much to his brother's horror. His voice was still cold and hard as steel. 'Defend yourself!'

Shield flung Toothless off of him, scrambling to his feet. He didn't stop, he didn't speak, he simply attacked, the same way he did on that first Berserker ship, so long ago now. Unplanned, focused ferocity.

Toothless was much more of a fighter than Shield, and easily dodged Shield's charge. He dropped onto the dragon, pinning him again, by the back this time. He held down Shield's wings and spoke into the enraged dragon's ear, calmly and quietly. 'You can fight. Not well, but you can. This proves it.' He jumped off of Shield, landing to face him a few feet away. 'Now prove you can control yourself like you claim to have learned how to do!' His voice was challenging.

Shield trembled with rage for a moment, unmoving. But his pupils were slowly widening, in stops and starts, abrupt expansions. After a moment, they were back to normal. Shield shook his head, growling softly.

Toothless began purring loudly, apparently quite pleased. 'Is that enough to reassure you?'

Shield sounded shaken. 'I... How did you know?' He whined softly. 'I thought I had it under control now! I really did! But you got me to lose control so easily, so-'

Toothless cut him off. 'Yes, I did. Because I knew what buttons to push. That rage is in all of us. You can't get rid of it, it's part of you, and that isn't a bad thing. For me, it's threatening me or my family. Or just making me mad, but that's quite difficult. I figured it would be the same for you.' He was still purring. 'Now you know where it is. What triggers it still, despite everything. So stop doubting that you'll be able to protect or defend like you need to.'

Shield was still disoriented. He stared at Toothless, almost embarrassed now. 'You're right. But, apparently, I'm not that good of a fighter anyway.' He thought back to how Toothless had effortlessly pinned him when he had charged. 'Not very good at all.'

Toothless laughed. 'No. But we have a bit of time to fix that, or at least improve it. I'll help you. Hopefully, you can at least learn and practice without being actively threatened.' His tone dropped back to serious. 'I wasn't lying about Eldurhjarta. You really will be switching places with her. So, we'll make sure you can fight as effectively as possible against humans with weapons, in an enclosed space.' He looked over at Maour. 'Will you help with that part?'

Maour was still trying to return his heartbeat to something approaching normal. "Toothless, next time tell me the crazy plan first. Even if I'm not involved."

Toothless took note of the fact that Maour was holding his scythe, though it was still sheathed. 'What were you going to do?' He eyed it curiously.

Maour laughed sarcastically. "I have no idea. Maybe try to pry you two apart using it as a lever?" He had just pulled it off of his back as a reflex when Shield had charged Toothless. He wondered momentarily if being linked with Toothless was somehow transferring instincts over. But he probably would have noticed that before now. So that had just been him. Pulling out a weapon as soon as Toothless was threatened, despite his aversion to violence.

Actually, now that he thought about it, Maour realized he had done the same much earlier in his time with Toothless, attacking a Monstrous Nightmare as it rushed for Toothless's unconscious form. Maybe what Toothless had said about Shield applied to him as well.

Toothless warbled sadly. 'Sorry. But it did work.'

Maour laughed, resheathing his scythe. "Yes, and it almost gave me a heart attack. But I'll definitely help you two. We should bring Von into this too. She could probably benefit from some refresher lessons." He had been quite shocked a while back to learn that Von, despite her shy but optimistic personality, was quite well versed in the art of combat. It had apparently been something of an obsession for Shadow, in the years after losing his mate, to make sure his daughter was as well prepared as possible. But Von could use specific instructions on fighting in close quarters, against Vikings.

Shield nodded. 'Agreed. When do we start?'

Maour grinned. "Let me go get some different weapons from the Berserker stuff, while you get Von. We might as well meet back here." He looked around. "This is a pretty good clearing."

Shield ducked his head in embarrassment. 'I thought we could use a little clear space to... no, I'm not even going to try. At least someone can use it.' He flew off, presumably to find Von.

Maour smiled at Toothless. "It was a good plan. If a bit worrying."

'Hey, I have to put up with your crazy plans all the time.'

"Name one craz-"

"Wingsuit, Wingsuit mark two, Wingsuit mark three, retractible claws built into your gauntlets, a Zippleback gas flamethrower built into your gauntlet, trying to make friends with that Scauldron-'

"Hey, that one worked." Maour felt he had to defend his only success in a long list of failures and redesigns. Also... "And most of those were just ideas that I'm still tinkering with! The Wingsuit will definitely work eventually. I actually had plans for the fourth version before all of this started. And I'm coming back to the flamethrower idea!"

Toothless chuffed defensively. 'I never said they were bad ideas. Just crazy, and scary for me to watch you try. That Scauldron almost boiled you at least twice, I'm sure!' He purred, nudging Maour towards the saddle. "And I like the flamethrower idea. But I don't like you carrying around canisters of the stuff, or having one on your hand. It kind of negates the whole "fire-resistant" aspect of your flight suit if you store explosive gas on it.'

"Yeah, yeah. I figured as much myself. But I want some sort of firepower. Like I said, that's after the wingsuit." Maour got on, and they flew off. "And that's after we end this stupid war."

Reason for Removal: As above, this whole side-plot didn't make the cut.

Secret Agent Blacksmith (Chapter 26)

"Sir, miss Astrid wanted to be told when we passed the half-way point." A Berserker was speaking, almost bowing and mumbling in fear. "We just did, by my calculations."

Gobber sighed. "Alrighty, I'll tell 'er." He waved the ship's captain back to his duties. He stumped across the deck, heading for the cabin built into the back of the ship. Astrid was below deck, and other Vikings could use the hatches, but Gobber was too old to do that with the disadvantage of a hook hand and peg leg. So he went the long way, to the steep stairs in the cabin.

As he walked, he mused darkly. The Berserker had told him because they were all scared witless by Astrid. He wasn't sure who frightened them more, her or Dagur. But he guessed it might be Astrid. Dagur was crazy, but Astrid was just as bad, and they weren't used to her. While Dagur from what Gobber had seen tended to be more enthusiastic and happy than angry, Astrid was definitely the other way around. She was a truly frightening person to be around nowadays.

He sighed. She had been subtle, at least before the chiefly meeting. But something there had pushed her even further. Now there was no hiding it, and she didn't seem to want to. He figured he knew what had changed. She and Maour had spoken at least once, on that second night, and she had been in a pure cold fury afterward, trashing the boat they had taken to get there. Snotlout had been entirely content to leave her to that. He wanted no part in dealing with her.

That had been a great move on Snotlout's part. He had with Spitelout's advice played Dagur rather well, acting as if he didn't want to get Astrid away from himself as soon as possible. Dagur had thought he was pressuring Snotlout to marry Astrid off without consulting her parents first, but Gobber knew Snotlout entirely preferred dealing with the whole Hofferson clan over Astrid herself.

Gobber had gone with Astrid. She had apparently pressured Snotlout on that herself. He must have entirely gained her confidence. To the surprise of all of the Berkians, he had gone willingly. Gobber was a Berserker now, at least in name. But Gobber had a different agenda. One no one truly knew. Maybe not even Hiccup, or Maour as he now called himself.

Gobber grimaced, descending the stairs. He had heard that angry rant the first night of the meeting. Everyone on the island had heard it. While Astrid and Dagur publicly ignored the apparent name change and enforced that decision where they could, Gobber privately agreed with it. Hiccup was gone. The Hiccup he had known would have come up with some elaborate plan to get revenge for his father's murder. He would also have failed miserably, in all likelihood. Gobber knew Hiccup was gone. But he wasn't sure that it was a bad thing. Not now, anyway.

He had had big plans, so long ago, reading that note Hiccup had left. His loyalties had been split two ways. His best friend and Chief, Stoick, versus the one he considered a son, Hiccup. His heartstrings, old and ragged as they were, had been torn badly by that picture Hiccup had given him. Because, despite everything, the look on Hiccup's face had been one of peace. Something Gobber hadn't ever really seen on the constantly depressed or enthusiastic boy he had known.

So, in order to bring resolution to that contradiction of loyalty, Gobber had come up with a plan. He would correspond with Hiccup, and he would look into this book Johann apparently had. All with the end goal of trying to bring Hiccup back to Berk, back to his rightful place. Gobber had been so sure he could do it. Stoick was trying to move on, but Snotlout was a poor replacement, and Gobber knew it, just as well as Stoick did.

The first blow to that plan had been the book. After looking through it, Gobber knew without a doubt that Hiccup was in the right. Gobber had not at all been expecting that. He had been hoping there was some simple path to resolution. Maybe convincing Hiccup to let the lizards live their own lives, and come back to Berk without them. He had been sure Hiccup was imposing his dreams of a perfect family upon intelligent animals, especially from that picture. But the book, in all its sometimes disturbing realism, left no room for doubt, even though it stopped with the death of the Queen. Hiccup really had discovered something no one had ever known, and dragons were really that self-aware.

Gobber, a veteran of a thousand battles, both against humans and dragons, hadn't been too horrified by the knowledge that he had been fighting and killing unwilling slaves for years. But it did give him pause, and in rare moments regret. Mostly for the arena, and his part in that.

And so, any hopes of Hiccup coming back to restore things to as they were before were shattered. Gobber had moved to plan B. Somehow bring Hiccup back with his crazy dragons, and at least make amends with his father. But his subtle hints in that direction had been missed, or maybe ignored. Hiccup was adamant in his letters that he didn't want to come back, even when Gobber induced hypothetical situations, such as his dragon friends living there with him.

But Gobber wasn't one to give up. So, while he became a spy for one side of his loyalty, he worked to bring the two together, to bring Stoick into the right way of thinking. He knew his stubborn friend would never willingly be changed. If he knew it was happening, at least. So Gobber had been subtle and had taken so much time. Introducing ideas slowly, and often under the cover of supposedly-drunken stupor. That the Red Death had been the cause of the raids had been step one. After a few months of introducing that idea, Stoick had reluctantly begun to believe. Gobber had considered that the first step, and it had been done. After that, he had hit a brick wall. Stoick shut down any mention of Hiccup whatsoever and refused to even think about his son, as far as Gobber could tell. But Gobber was patient.

It didn't help that over time, Gobber had begun to believe that Hiccup might actually be better off wherever he was. Berk was a more desolate and angry place now. He figured it was the lack of a common, consistent enemy. Vikings who had banded together under the raids now held resentments over petty squabbles. There had even been a few murders, something literally unheard of during the raids, as even one's biggest rival could be counted on to save one's life during battle against a common foe.

It might also have been because of the dragon hunts. Astrid led them, and Gobber saw with growing disgust the increasingly barbaric trophies she had brought back. As Vikings, the most valued trophies for the older generation were those won in fair combat, from prizes of note. A Skrill's talon, still just barely translucent. A stuffed Night Fury head had been the prize every Viking coveted. But the things Astrid had brought back were not like that. Hearts of Gronckles strung together by the dozen. And worse. Astrid wasn't hunting for a prize dragon, she was simply slaughtering everything she found. The Vikings of Berk had been happy to follow her lead, killing for sport. Gobber had never opposed Astrid, but if he could have gone back and done something differently knowing what he did now, he would have stopped that, spoken up. It might have prevented all of... this.

Gobber pushed open the door to the room Astrid was currently occupying. He cleared his face and assumed the guise he had come to hate. An exaggerated mockery of his former self, back when he had been happy. Killing dragons and watching Hiccup fail to meet Stoick's expectations, never really helping. He hated that part of himself, but it was what Astrid trusted, so he played it well, and hid the bitter, regretful old man he had become.

Regretful. Because he had never really tried to bring Hiccup and Stoick together before. He had figured it would happen on its own. And when he finally did try, far too late... He had made progress, finally, after entire years of Stoick stubbornly ignoring his subtle hints. He had finally gotten Stoick to agree that hunting dragons was pointless, because they were no longer attacking, or even around Berk, and Stoick had stopped Astrid's ever-lengthening hunts, citing waste of resources and futility.

Astrid and Snotlout had stabbed his best friend in the back for it. Literally. Gobber blamed three people for that. Astrid, Snotlout, and himself. He knew it wasn't really his fault. But in a way, it had been his doing.

The ironic part was, now his loyalties were undivided. He would protect everything Maour held dear. Because Hiccup was gone, and Maour was a better man because of it. He at least had let go of the past. Gobber hadn't, and it had gotten Stoick killed.

Well, Gobber thought darkly, his loyalty might be unquestionable, but his motives and methods... not so much. Maour wouldn't approve of the course Gobber was now charting. But Gobber didn't care. There were some things a Viking had to do. Maour wasn't a Viking... but Gobber was.

"Astrid, we've hit the halfway point. We'll be there in two days." Gobber forced a grin.

Astrid looked up from her map. She glanced at him before returning to it. "Get the captain. I have some... last minute changes to make to our course." She was staring at the wobbly sketch of an island, drawn with the shape of a tear. Oddly appropriate, given how the information had been obtained.

"Fer the whole fleet?" Gobber wasn't sure if Astrid had that authority.

Astrid smiled. "No, just this ship. Dagur and I decided to give Maour a little surprise. Dagur will be staying to lead the main attack."

"And wha' will we be doin'?" Gobber felt he wasn't going to like the answer.

A twisted grin crossed Astrid's face. "Dragon hunting, of course. What else?" She stood, slamming her ax into the map as she did, cutting a massive tear in it, and the table as well. "Never mind, I'll find the captain myself." She stormed out of the room.

Gobber followed her, directly behind her unarmored and unguarded back. He was the guard, among other things. She trusted him. He once again considered his goals. Both of them. Maybe he could achieve both if everything fell out correctly.

Reason for Removal: Did we really need a Gobber POV before the final battle? I don't think so; his actions are more interesting from the outside, given a hint of mystery. It's better if we don't have any blatant forewarning about what he's going to do in the final battle; the pieces are there, I don't need to shove them in the reader's face… Now, anyway.

Battle of the Irrational People (Chapter 27)

"They're here. Or well, soon. Soon they will be here." Tuffnut was panting, despite not physically having done anything but sit in the saddle.

"Translation, Ruffnut?" Maour was trying to stifle the rising dread. It was finally starting.

"Berserkers. Multiple ships. Like, many, many ships." She glanced at Tuffnut. "Bro quit it. You're distracting me."

Toothless took charge for the moment. 'Boom, Blast, how many? Did you get a count?'

'At least forty. We think it's every ship they had.' Blast sounded confident. 'They're sailing together, but not in any formation. No pattern, no defensive positioning.'

'Of course. Dagur doesn't think he needs defense. He has the numbers on his side.' Toothless growled. 'And he does. But it won't be enough. How far out?'

'Two days by ship.' Boom frowned, looking up at Tuffnut. "Tuff, do you need to be slapped back to sanity?"

Tuffnut abruptly stopped panting. He looked down at his dragon in annoyance. "You too? Fine."

Maour pointed at Tuffnut and Ruffnut. "You four go tell the chiefs. And both of you, don't annoy Mogadon. We need him cooperative, not aggravated." He thought for a second. "Have them ready to go at any time. We can't afford to wait until they get here to prepare."

Toothless looked up at Maour. 'What will we do?'

"Tell the Furies, make sure everyone knows what to do, and spend time with our family. There's nothing more we can do."

They had even less time than they had thought. Dagur's fleet sailed through the night, despite the recklessness of that, especially right before a fight. Dagur was clearly hoping to catch the Isle off guard. Luckily, Maour had anticipated something like that in having the allies' fleet standing by. They were ready when the two fleets advanced towards each other, looking to meet a few miles off the coast of the Isle of Night.

Toothless flew high, staring at the horizon. The sun was rising at the moment. Everything was in place, everyone was ready. He looked up and back and smiled at Maour. 'This is it!'

"Yes, it is." Maour looked behind them. "Are you any good with speeches? I feel like I've given more than my fair share recently."

'I'll come up with something.' Toothless slowed, falling into the middle of the shapeless formation of fourteen Night Furies, all flying together. He eyed the fleets below. They would get within fighting distance of each other in a few minutes. That was when the dragons would attack. 'Everyone! Stick to the plan, don't kill our allies, and don't get killed! We fight to defend our home. No longer will we run and relocate at every tiny threat! We are done living anonymously, hoping that hiding will save us! We will live brazenly instead!' Each sentence was punctuated with a bark, except for the last. Toothless had seen the first ships engage. It was time. So, after his last statement, he roared, loud and long, and the Furies roared with him.

The Vikings of both sides looked up at that, and both sides felt a twinge of fear. For the defenders it was quickly overridden by courage, knowing that unearthly roar originated from their side. For the Berserkers, the fear only increased. They looked up, seeing the black shapes diving towards them, illuminated by the rising sun. But they would get no chance to target those shapes. Ships met, and combat ensued between Vikings, the defenders forcing the Berserkers to focus on them, or be cut down where they stood.

The Bog-Burglars were the most daring. They leaped across, stole weapons, and leaped back to their own ship, luring enraged Berserkers across to fight them on safe ground. The Furies would find easily and safely sinkable targets with those ships.

The Waxears were trying to stick to the plan, but they were Vikings, and battle-rage brought quite a few onto the Berserker ships. The Meatheads didn't even try to stick to the plan. They full-on boarded every Berserker ship they reached in that initial contact, as they always did. There would be no easy targets with the Waxears and Meatheads.

Toothless rose from the initial dive, watching a Berserker ship sink. He watched as the other Furies dispersed across the battle, seeking such easy targets out among the chaotic naval conflict. 'Maour, where?' He would trust his brother to find where they were needed, and his brother would trust him to deal with it.

Maour scanned the battle. "Well, as expected only the Bog-Burglars are actually sticking to the plan. So we'll end up hitting defended targets. Are you up for some evasive maneuvers?"

Toothless could hear the humor in Maour's voice. 'Of course! Give me something to shoot at!'

"There." Maour pointed at an unaffected Berserker ship angling to make contact with a fairly even fight between two other ships. "Trash them before they can interfere." The ship he had pointed to was armed and watching the sky, so no Fury was going near it, as was the plan. Maour and Toothless were skilled enough together to ignore that particular restriction.

Toothless plunged his wings down, blasting forward as fast as he could go, pumping his wings furiously to speed up. The wind whipped past them as he sped towards the selected ship.

This was one of the reasons Maour had made a custom helmet. He quickly flipped down the scale visor that usually blended into the helmet's exterior, completely protecting his eyes from the wind. And, coincidentally, any view whatsoever of what was going on outside the helmet. That, Maour reflected in amusement as he accessed Toothless's sense of sight, was not a problem. He watched as his brother flipped and spun away from oncoming nets and crossbow bolts with an ease born of agility and reflexes. Maour was a part of those reflexes, and he was not a weak link. His foot, as always, moved the tailfin as if it was an extension of Toothless still, despite its prosthetic nature. Maour took pride in the fact that his response time was so good Toothless moved just as well as any whole Night Fury. And better. He and Toothless were the fastest rider team, and even faster than many of the solo Furies. As such, they could do this.

Toothless blasted the ship three times in quick succession, the third blast throwing splinters up and out, revealing a gaping hole, much of which was below the waterline. A fatal wound, for a Viking warship. They rolled to the side, avoiding another net, and shot back into the air, out of range. Toothless had for a brief moment been flying below the decks of the ships, inches above the waterline. No longer.

"Good, but you only have five shots left. Conserve them. We need to help sink as many as possible." Maour flipped the visor up, looking down at the battle again as Toothless concentrated on flying. "I see somewhere we can help." He told Toothless, and the pair dove off again, back into the fray.

Camicazi screamed in anger as she stabbed yet another overweight Berserker soldier. She had been enjoying the fight, but this was getting frustrating. So many of them ignored her, targeting the bigger Burglars instead. This particular one had walked right by her! "That's what you get!" She yanked the long dagger out of the Berserker's leg and smirked as he stared at her in shock before being dispatched by another Burglar. They mostly worked in pairs, but the fighting had broken many of the pairs up, so Camicazi was helping where she could.

The older woman nodded in thanks before wading back into the fray.

Camicazi took a moment to look past the conflict on this particular ship. It was chaos. Furies everywhere, fire, a few sinking ships thrown into the mix. And the Berserker reinforcements, sailing in. Dagur had so many ships. He had sent half in to engage, and the rest he had held back for a while. Now, they angled towards where the fighting was going badly, hoping to further tip the balance. She noted with a shiver that many of the ships of the first wave had attempted to breach the wall of defending ships. She could only assume they wanted to drive the battle to land, where they could take full advantage of their superior numbers. And of course raze the island, as Astrid wanted.

She wondered where in the battle Astrid was. She would dearly like to cross blades with the insane dragon killer. Camicazi saw Hiccup, or Maour as he now was called, as a good friend. He wasn't really her type, so that was as far as it went. Still, no one threatened the family of her friend. But she didn't see Astrid anywhere. Not like she could see much from here anyway. Maybe one of the riders was having better luck.

Fishlegs and Berg had come up with something of a unique way to contribute. They flew back to the Isle for the third time today, quickly making their way to a suspiciously orderly and symmetrical assembly of boulders, each about fifty pounds. Fishlegs lifted one, and Berg grabbed another.

Berg precariously lifted off, slowly gaining altitude as he made his way back to the fight. They circled for a few minutes, gaining more altitude. Finally, they were high enough. Berg slowly flew over the main bulk of the as of yet unengaged ships. He chortled. 'This good?'

Fishlegs looked down. "Yup. Bombs away!" Sadly, he hadn't had time to get the twins to make actual bombs. They were good with pyrotechnics, but he wasn't. Still, a fifty-pound rock dropped from hundreds of feet in the air could smash through a lot of wood. These particular rocks both hit the same ship, one going straight through the deck. And, as Fishlegs saw the ship begin to sink, he assumed the hull as well. "Good, but we need to hit different ships. We wasted a rock, and this isn't super efficient to start with.

Berg snorted, making his way back to the rocks they had gathered in the days prior. 'We're saving my shots, for when the others start running out. Any extra ships we take out are complete gain on our part. I just wish the other Furies were strong enough to do this.' He was sure most of them didn't have the claw strength to carry the stones, and most didn't have riders either. But this worked fine with just two stones at a time.

Fishlegs looked across the fight. "I wonder where Dagur is? I want to sink him." He was definitely happy with that idea. Taking out Dagur would be great, and he was pretty sure this was the only entirely safe way of doing so.

'No idea. He might be in one of the fights.'

"Well, we'll keep an eye out."

"This was a bad idea!" Ruffnut thrust her spear, impaling a Berserker soldier through a weak point in his chainmail. She yanked it out and spun to deflect another ax that had been aimed to split her in half.

Tuffnut grimaced, clubbing a Berserker over the head. "You didn't think so all those months we practiced this!"

"That was practice! The Thorston Wheel of Death is really not so fun in actual combat, apparently!" Ruffnut pulled at her unoccupied arm, which was interlocked with her brother's arm, and he spun with her, smashing his mace into the side of the Berserker attacking her. She, in turn, stabbed at the one who had replaced the Berkserker he clubbed a second ago.

"It's working fine, what are you- Spin!- talking about?!" Tuffnut ignored the dizziness their constant turning was inducing. "They don't know how to deal with us!"

It was true. The twins had been air-dropped directly onto an incoming Berserker ship and had promptly locked arms and gone back to back, fighting like Loki himself. They were actually scaring the Berserkers. Mostly because their helmets were on, visors down. They were apparently fighting blind... and winning.

In reality, they had practiced this particularly unnerving and effective technique for months. Blast and Boom were circling the ship, and the twins were looking through their bond's eyes, switching positions to keep up with the circling of the dragons, so as to not become disoriented. This also had the apparently unnerving effect of both twins knowing exactly what was going on behind them, allowing the consistent switching of places to be done effectively. It was ridiculous, stupid, intimidating, and insanely effective. It was only effective because the twins really had practiced for months, ever since Tuffnut had had the idea shortly before Heather had arrived.

In short order, the twins had in this way dispatched ten of the twelve Berserker soldiers. The only two left were staring at them in shock, huddled in a corner of the ship. Rather than separate, the twins decided to stay in their wheel, and began walking towards the Berserkers, slowed by the consistent swapping of places required to keep from being disoriented.

The two Berserkers looked at each other. They considered the two blind riders who had destroyed their fellow warriors, and the utterly unnerving way they switched places every five seconds for no reason. Both Berserkers promptly jumped overboard.

Tuffnut shrugged. "Good choice." He flipped up the visor and unlocked arms with his sister. He looked over Ruffnut's shoulder and grinned. "Wave, Ruffnut. Smile and wave."

Ruffnut turned to see Mogadon on a nearby ship. Not moving despite the battle raging two feet behind him. Jaw dropped. Staring at them. She smiled and waved.

Then the twins were abruptly grabbed by their respective Furies and flung into the air. With practiced precision, they landed in the saddles that appeared under them. Tuffnut winced. "Blast, do we really have to do that?"

Ruffnut cackled gleefully. "Of course we do!" She looked down at the destruction they had wrought. "That made me really dizzy."

"Yeah... let's stick to fire for the time being. I don't feel like puking again." The dragons and riders flew off to aid in a nearby battle in a less insane fashion.

Smith of the Waxears wiped his brow and winced at the blood on it. It was only a minor head injury, but random nausea and dizziness was stopping him from rejoining the battle. So, he had moved behind the line of battle. He would rejoin the fight as soon as he could stand properly. While he waited, he surveyed what he could see. He noticed the antics of the twins and had seen the rock-dropping going on. He was impressed.

But they were losing. No Furies had been downed, but many were apparently out of shots. Those could be seen circling from above, waiting for whatever internal mechanism replenished their fire. They weren't being taken out by the Berserkers, but the fight itself was lowering their numbers slowly and steadily.

As the air support faded, the second wave of Berserker ships changed tactics, and maneuvered around the entangled combatants, heading for the island. There were five now on that course. Smith watched as the last few Furies with fire sunk three of those five. Two continued unharmed, and more were following. The defenders were stuck, forced to fight their own small battles, unable to stop the larger war from passing them by. Smith knew how it would go. With no fire left, the Furies would be forced to fight close up, and once the Berserkers were on the ground, it would be a slaughter. There were a dozen Berserkers on each ship, and a team of four, if coordinated, could take down any dragon forced to fight without fire. He sighed. There was literally nothing he could do personally. He would bear witness, at least. To the fall of the Isle of Night.

Toothless was out of shots. Or at least, he should be. He almost felt as if he could fire again, but that was an illusion, created by his desperation. He and Maour had been reduced to fighting on the ships. They now sprung once more into the air.

"Bud, any fire?" Maour's voice was frantic.

'No! Not yet!' Toothless willed his fire to regenerate faster, despite the futility of just one more shot. He strained, frustrated.

"We need to land on the beach." Maour's voice was soft now. "Fight them off there."

'We'll die. There are too many of them.' Even now, there were too many ships. Toothless was beyond frustrated, he was infuriated. Infuriated that he couldn't save his own family, or anyone else. 'Where is Dagur? I'll tear him apart myself before we go!' And they would die here. He and Maour would die protecting those who couldn't leave. They both had agreed upon that, in a somber moment before the battle. The last stand would likely be himself, Maour, Shadow, Shield, and Von. The defenders of the eggs and young. Cloey wouldn't leave her eggs to freeze. She would likely die curled around them, in an act of defiance.

"Toothless, if you have anything, now is the time." Maour searched the chaos for Astrid or Dagur, intent on that much just as much as his brother. Astrid might have succeeded, but he'd be damned if he let her enjoy it. "Because I don't."

Toothless stared at the ships slowly and inexorably approaching the Isle. 'We swore. To never let them step foot on our island.' Something inside him snapped, or maybe only temporarily bent. He felt his fire return, far faster than ever before. It didn't stay where it was supposed to.

Maour was shocked to see the blue glow emanating from Toothless's spines, and from between his brother's scales. "What is this?"

'I don't know, and I don't care right now.' Toothless's voice was cold with fury. 'All I care about is that I can do THIS!' He dove towards the ships, and without pause fired not one bolt but three at the hull of the closest one. Each bolt hit far harder than ever before, and one would have been more than enough. Each over-powered explosion ripped through the hull of the ship, the last actually cracking the ship in half, right down the middle. He roared in triumph and blasted the next ship, not even bothering to aim for the hull. His shots were strong enough to clear the entire deck with a single hit.

Toothless quickly incapacitated the ships headed for the Isle, and headed through the chaos. He was flying a few feet above the sea, and slaloming through the maze of hulls, blasting every single Berserker ship in sight. It was a stunning show of power. In seconds he had sunk all of Dagur's reinforcement ships. Now the only ones left were those too entangled with combatants for Toothless to sink. They had gone from losing to winning in less than a minute.

Maour screamed with joy, raising both hands above his head. "What in Thor's name was that?!"

Toothless roared happily, receiving roars of respect from every Fury within sight. 'No idea!' He searched the battlefield, seeing a suspiciously distant ship. It seemed to be trying to tack around the far side of the battle. 'There's Dagur!' The redhead was clearly visible, shouting in fury. 'Let's make good on that promise!'

"Yes." Maour was grim now. Time to finish this. Astrid was probably there as well.

Toothless soared towards the ship, intentionally not firing. He could still feel the fire in him, and it was starting to hurt a little, but he didn't know how to stop it, and he didn't care. Let Dagur see him-

They had flown within range, and a single crossbow bolt sliced through the air, aimed directly at Maour. It was a lucky shot. The one they had always had to consider when planning attacks. It was perfectly positioned to hit Maour in the chest. Time seemed to slow, and Toothless reacted.

Maour's arm shot up and grabbed the bolt straight out of the air, directly in front of his chest. While they were flying at top speed. Toothless was the one who had moved it.

Toothless abruptly realized he was seeing through Maour's eyes, hearing through his ears, everything. He was controlling him. In that split second Toothless realized he had complete control. Just like the Queen had exhibited over him.

Toothless promptly reared back in horror, pulling out as quickly as possible, trying to shut off whatever this horrible Alpha state was. He was heedless to the screams of Maour trying to get him to pay attention, heedless to the fact that they were plummeting towards the ship. He was in utter panic, trying to rid himself of this power. He had somehow activated it, how did he deactivate it?!

He hadn't found the answer by the time they hit the ship, and all disappeared into merciful darkness.

Shield waited. He sat in the entrance to the Svartur caves all morning, listening to the sounds of battle. He was worried, but the fact that he had a job to do kept him there. That, and the fact that he couldn't help. So he waited. He was alert. He would not fail.

And so, he noticed the first shadowy figure sneaking through the forest. Towards the caves. On two legs. A Berserker. Shield didn't even think, pouncing and tearing the soldier limb from limb. He stared at the corpse for a moment. 'You should never have stepped foot on this island.'

Shield retreated back to the cave entrance. He felt absolutely no remorse, only relief. Toothless had been right. Just being on this island made the Berserkers enough of a threat for him to fight. But he saw more coming. This was far from over, and he was the only thing standing between armed soldiers and the cave with the young and parents.

Heather and Einfari were flying around the island. Einfari was out of shots, so they weren't abandoning anything by doing so, and Heather had a sneaking suspicion. She hadn't seen Astrid anywhere.

Einfari abruptly snarled savagely. 'You were right.' She immediately banked around and shot towards the battle. Maour and the others needed to know. Astrid had landed on the Isle, accompanied by what looked like far more than the usual twelve Berserkers. Astrid had set foot on the Isle of Night.

"So much for Hiccup." Astrid sneered as their ship separated from the Berserker fleet the night prior to the battle. "He and his frail allies fall tomorrow. And when he retreats, he'll find me. Standing over a pile of dead Night Furies, ax in hand." She spent the remainder of that night sharpening her ax, staring at the outline of the island they were approaching from the opposite side, as far from the fleet as possible. They would land a few hours after daybreak, by her best guess. When the battle should be well under way.

Gobber winced. This was not how he had wanted his first visit to Maour's home to go. He had slipped away from Astrid's oversized group of Berserkers, and made his way around to the caves, taking a different route entirely. Maour had been extremely sparse with locations, but descriptions of places he had apparently been fine with handing out. The cave system in the mountain had been one such place. Gobber lit a torch and made his way to the central cavern. "'Ello?" He looked around. "I come in peace, believe it or not."

Yeah, he wouldn't have believed himself either. "Oy, any Furies around? It's Gobber!" He really hoped no Berserkers heard that. There would be questions.

He was abruptly pounced on, torch flying to the floor. He looked up into the green eyes of a Night Fury. "Er... I'm on yer side?"

Reason for Removal: So many problems, so little time. Fun fact; this was the entire first draft chapter 27, no cuts, no edits. I cringe in horror of the terrible logic, lack of setup, etc. Also, it's only 4000 words, what was I thinking?